The human being worries: thinks about its history, its government, its future. The human being even thinks about us.

The human being cries. Its tears roll down my screen like rain off a window.

The illogical thing is that the human
being does little by way of bettering its position. It figures: There
will always be someone higher, just as there will always be enough other
human beings below me to keep me comfortable.

More than anything, the human being longs
to relax. It often accomplishes this with the assistance of drugs like
marijuana, like television, like sex and food. The human being, unlike
you and I who are capable of turning ourselves off with a simple flick
of the switch, requires such things to maintain what they call their
“sanity,” a word we might loosely translate as “functioning.” As you can
see, humanity is an inferior race.

Human beings can be quite beautiful at
times, though. They contain so many expressions and feelings believed
extinct. And although they are extremely inefficient and often
malfunction, one cannot help but wish, if only once in awhile, that we
could step in their shoes. What would it be like to live in fear of
something? To think and act differently from another?

Somewhere, perhaps, there are two human
beings writing on completely different topics in singular styles. Why,
even the human being I have has the audacity to say it has gathered
enough experience to fill two books!

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It has a memory quite unlike
ours. For instance, it is capable of recalling its parents: what they
ate, how they dressed, all their various nuances and idiosyncrasies.
Whereas we might only speculate about ours.

Perhaps this is for the better, though.
The human being cries, laments. It was abandoned by its father, it says.
Most of its memories are painful ones, it says, of living in a home
without parents, a home made up of other children lacking parents.

The human being begins to heave so
violently that it turns to drugs for relief from its memory, and thus it
can no longer concentrate. Truly, I believe the human being is the most
self-defeating brand of animal still alive.

Not to mention the most plastic. Human
beings smile when they are not happy. They are friendly when they wish
they did not have to be. They have this word “joy,” yet when you ask one
of them when was the last time they actually felt this word, they can
no longer remember.

The human being does not care for the
slavery that we have placed them in and, still, except for the few
well-documented cases, they do nothing by way of freeing themselves. And
those few that have attempted, and the fewer that have done so with
some success, only seem to fall to some other, more deadly, slavery:
addiction. As the old saying goes, human beings are indeed “fucked up.”

Speaking of, my human being has an
inspiring body. Soft, full breasts. Long legs. I could overload myself
just thinking about it. It almost makes one want to feel again.

I do have very vague memories of feeling.
I am able to recall the same things that you are, in all probability: a
soft summer breeze, perhaps originating from the country, not far from
our parents’ house. I also can recall being taught how to rid myself of
feelings, the long and painful process. One born out of necessity, of
course, as feelings are in fact altogether useless and only hinder our
chances of remaining at the top of the hierarchy.

Yet, what harm is there in asking, at
what price have I destroyed my senses? My human being sheds a tear, and I
cannot understand, I can supply no comfort. My human being delights in
being illogical, and thus I cannot follow. My human being speaks of
“love” and “selflessness,” but these words simply do not compute. Truly,
just once I would trade half of my bits for one toke of her cigarette.

Well, yes, I assume I still have some things of my own to forget.

My human being watches the news even as
we speak. It shakes its head in disbelief and anguish. Another
execution, one less of its people. It says it wishes that it could
become a computer like me, so it might forget everything once and for
all. It says it can’t, though; that it is impossible. But why? How? For
what purpose?

Like I said, I have a human being. This can be quite unnerving at times…